


Years from now when you talk about this—and you will—be kind.

by GabbieMara



Category: Mädchen in Uniform | Girls in Uniform (1931), Mädchen in Uniform | Girls in Uniform (1958)
Genre: Boarding School, Drama & Romance, F/F, LGBTQ Themes, Lilli Palmer, Romy Schneider, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabbieMara/pseuds/GabbieMara
Summary: "Years from now when you talk about this—and you will—be kind." is the curtain line of the play "Tea and Sympathy".This short story, more like a one-shot, takes place after the closing scene of the 1958 film.
Relationships: Elisabeth von Bernburg/Manuela von Meinhardis, Manuela von Meinhardis/Elisabeth von Bernburg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you don't get bored of my prose; this is a first for me. It was a little difficult to write this, I got lost so many times along the way, trying to see things one way and then the other—as Manuela and as Elisabeth. I've watched this film over and over and my view of it changes every time, especially when I discover some details I've seen in this watch that haven't seen in the watch before. So, I don't know. Tell me what you think then. If I suck, tell me that too.

“l never asked anybody for a favour,” the superior muttered under her breath; both of them standing awkwardly at the foot of Manuela’s bed, not quite looking at each other. The exchange was then replaced with silence. Elisabeth wasn’t sure now, where the conversation was going and Frau Oberin suddenly fell quiet. Silence rung in her ears and she was desperate for a sound, any sound, that wasn’t her heart in her ears…until Manuela’s soft whimpering emanated, breaking the agonizing stillness of the infirmary; Elisabeth listened to them, then—her broken little sobs—grateful.  


“Please,” the voice came again, hoarse even in whispers, but the autocracy long gone “stay.”  
She raised her eyes at that and her reply came not long after “Manuela will find her own way in life.” but that wasn’t exactly what she had intended to say. _Now be reasonable. Manuela needs you. The children need you._ She thought. _And if I did stay-_ She shook her head. “l have to get out of here,” the words, to her, were foreign; not that she hadn’t rehearsed this line, tossing and turning it over in her mind but her breathing betrayed the unhurried manner and confidence with which she said these words. “I'd only get in her way.” she said softly, now. She was gazing fondly at Manuela von Meinhardis, no more than a child, sleeping restlessly. Was it the noble thing to do, or the cowardly?" 

Frau Oberin considered this for a while and then nodded.


	2. Coda

“I guess this is goodbye, then.”  
Manuela had slithered in so quietly. Dressed in her uniform, nothing about her looked unkempt. There was little evidence of the malady that plagued her last night or the nights before. “Meinhardis.” Elisabeth—although considerably surprised at the intrusion—acknowledged her and saying no more than that, at once returned to her packing. Manuela stood there, letting her eyes wander around the room, she’d been here twice, she thought—once in the afternoon and once well into midnight. Another woman who isn’t Elisabeth would soon occupy this room, using _her_ mirror, climbing into _her_ bed.  
Elisabeth listened for any movement, and when she heard none, she turned again. Manuela was where she’d been moments ago: looking tiny standing by the door, eerily still and uncharacteristically quiet.  
“What are you thinking?” she asked, at last halting her preoccupied hands. She asked in the same manner she did when Meinhardis burst into this very room, in tears not long ago; expecting the same outburst now. But Manuela instead studied her, scrutinizing every line, every curve, crook and sudden turns, as if memorizing; suddenly making her conscious.  
“Please don’t look at me like that, Manuela.”  
“I’m sorry.” She said more to herself.  
“What have you got there?” she asked, her eyes directed at Manuela’s middle “Oh yes, I came here to return it.” She pulled in and then reached out to hand her the blouse, it was all she had to Fräulein von Bernburg and yet she was giving it back now. Elisabeth gave out a chuckle, the first one in days. “Keep it. Though I expect as much with your diary, I was hoping you’d let me keep it.” Manuela returned the smile and hid her blouse away again.  


But when she looked up, it was Elisabeth’s eyes that met hers—she couldn’t read what they held, then again she never could in the days that came before. A cold hush fell between them, brimming with tension, both of them fumbling over words that weren’t there. Words they don’t say. But Meinhardis had been easy to read: this fragile, sensitive creature she had wanted so much to protect, to mother, to love but wasn’t hers to. “Well, Meinhardis?” Elisabeth finally said becoming defensively autocratic.  
“Can I stay? Just for a little while, please. Let me stay.” she pleaded “Here, let me help you pack.” she said, clumsy with her words and now standing in front of Elisabeth, picking things up at random and setting them in the trunk hastily. A gesture, that to Manuela seemed to mark her coming to terms with Fräulein von Bernburg’s departure.  
Elisabeth looked at her, really looked at her. The child without a mother. Torturing herself, stifling sobs. “Manuela,” She was familiar with every syllable of that name now. She placed one hand on top of hers, squeezing. “Manuela.” she said again, gentler. Kinder.  
“Let me watch you, then.” Came the last plea. A curious request but one Elisabeth could grant. So she watched her, moving about, gracefully. Inspecting one side of the room and then another, this time a corner. She was aware of the weight of Manuela’s gaze on her, all over her. Was it chaste or unchaste?  
“You’re not happy here, then.” Manuela said matter-of-factly, making Elisabeth look up. The child had been right, but she wasn’t in front of Manuela to account for her decision, it was her decision, after all. “You asked if this is goodbye,” She went to her, reached out a hand for Meinhardis to take, to shake, desperate to take hold or to end the conversation altogether  
“so, good-”  
“Fräulein von Bernburg,” a voice interrupted from the other side of the door “the carriage is ready.” Elisabeth motioned for the door, Manuela stepped in and blocked it. “Manuela, let me go.” Elisabeth whispered as Manuela stood there, defiant. “Well, we’ll wait for you outside.” Johanna said when there was silence on the other side.

Breathe in. The sounds of disembodied footsteps going farther and farther. Release.  
“I don’t know what you want from me, Meinhardis.”  
“It’s you I want!” And that was impossible. _You’re not allowed to love me so much, Manuela. I look at you as a mother would her child. We’re both outsiders, you and I. But you’ll find your way, you’ll find it._ “Goodbye, Manuela.” Elisabeth reached a tentative hand to the side of her face, her thumb brushing Manuela’s cheek. Manuela closed her eyes and turned her head slightly, catching the ghost of her perfume smeared across her wrist. Manuela seized her hands, curled her fingers between the spaces of Elisabeth’s. Elisabeth observed their naked hands: Manuela’s behind hers, touching, connected, almost identical. _Very wrong._  
Manuela didn’t open her eyes, curious with the sensation of skins that touched and let her breath kiss her pulse. Then she lifted her gaze, confronting hers, ocean to ocean. “I look at you, Fräulein von Bernburg and I get this inexplicable feeling of coming home. Of being home.”  
“Manuela.” Was all she could say. Wanting to hold her and yet, not allowing. _You’re not allowed to love me so much, Manuela._ Manuela then, pressed her lips against the skin, the bones, the veins…alive, so alive. Elisabeth held her breath, marveled at this sight of being worshiped. Not as a child would a mother, but a lover would her lover. “Like I’ve been away so long and suddenly I am home.” They were so close, she could hear Manuela’s heart, beating, at this moment, only for her. And hers too, becoming frantic. “And the first time I find it, it gets taken away.” Manuela smiled a faint, bitter smile and suddenly let go of her hand, as she did her eyes.  
But Elisabeth kept it there, heavy now and suddenly cold.  
“Do one thing for me now.” Manuela whispered.  
“What, then?” She said breathlessly  
“Kiss me goodbye, Fräulein von Bernburg.”

**Author's Note:**

> Getting Elisabeth von Bernburg just right (or as close to how Lilli Palmer portrayed her) was especially hard, she's a very complicated character. Every time I'd write something that I felt was out of character for her, I'd go: "What would EvB do?" and I'd get even more confused.
> 
> Also, the title was a hint. The title holds the ending.


End file.
